


Panic

by vanika



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mostly Fluff, No Sex, brofeels, young ylvis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanika/pseuds/vanika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Bård does something wrong...and then complicates things by lying to his older brother.  How can he fix it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Completely fictional. I'm VERY new to this writing thing, so if you need to be critical, please offer suggestions for improvement. Thanks for reading! :-)

Bård KNEW he shouldn't have touched it. It was his brother's most favorite thing in the whole world. And despite how tempted he'd been, he KNEW that he shouldn't have touched it. But he had...and now he felt the walls of his bedroom closing in around him.

Lying on his bed with his arms positioned behind his head, he thought back to when Vegard had gotten the guitar. It had been a Christmas gift from their parents two years ago, and from the moment he saw it, Vegard had fallen in love with it...but so had Bård.

Both of the brothers were rather musically inclined, but their parents felt that Bård was still too young to know what he really wanted. He had tried to show them that this time, it wasn't a passing phase...that even at the age of 12, he knew exactly what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but to no avail. So, he resided himself to sneaking into Vegard's bedroom, and playing the beautiful instrument whenever his brother wasn't home. And over the course of the last year, he thought that he'd actually gotten pretty good at it. He'd ALSO gotten pretty good at predicting when his brother would be home so that the guitar could be placed back exactly where he'd found it and he could make it back out of the room leaving Vegard none the wiser.

Of course, Bård should have stopped while he was ahead, but the temptation proved to be too much for him. And a couple days earlier, he once again checked downstairs to make sure his brother wasn't home, and then snuck back into the older boy's room. As quietly as he could, he closed the door behind him, pulled the guitar case from out of Vegard's closet, and then holding his breath, smiled as he pulled the shiny, red electric guitar from out of it's resting place.

He couldn't ever get the full effect of the sound as it would disturb his parents and younger brother Bjarte, so he was content to pluck the strings of the instrument without it plugged into it's accompanying amplifier. But it didn't make any difference to Bård. When that guitar was hanging off his shoulder, and he was strumming away, trying to figure out the chords to the pop songs most recently at the top of the charts, he was a rock star. No one could touch him.

But his daydream had gotten the best of him this time. He had been so absorbed in the playing, he missed the sound of loud steps running quickly up the stairs until it was almost too late. His eyes got wide as he realized what was about to happen. He quickly pulled the guitar off, but a little too quickly, and he watched in horror as the precious instrument slipped out of his hand and descended towards the floor. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he saw it fall, and he fell down in an attempt to catch it before gravity got the best of the situation. He managed to buffer most of the fall, but the corner of the body bumped against the corner of Vegard's dresser. Bård felt his breath leave him as he saw the rather substantial crack. He almost burst out crying right then and there, but he quickly blinked the tears away while re-assessing the situation. His thoughts began flying a million miles an hour “What do I do? What do I do?” He heard Vegard getting ever closer to the room, so he decided to finish putting it away, hoping that his brother wouldn't go looking for it any time soon.

Bård had just finished placing the case back into the closet when Vegard entered the room.

"What are you doing in here?”

Trying to hide his obvious panic, he tried to speak. No words would come. He took a quick breath and cleared his throat. “Ummm...mom...she asked me to come get your dirty clothes and take them downstairs so she could wash them for you.”

“Oh...well, okay.”

Bård didn't look at him. He just quickly gathered the hamper and prepared to carry it downstairs. He made it almost to the door when Vegard addressed him again.

“Bård...?”

Bård froze in his tracks. He slowly turned to face his older brother, feeling the bile begin to rise up in his throat. “Y-yes, Vegard?”

Vegard eyed him up and down before replying. “You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Bård exhaled slowly before answering, “I think that I might be coming down with something.”

“Take care of that. You can't afford to be sick again. You've already missed too much school this year.”

The younger boy nodded, thinking back to the week of school that he'd missed about a month ago due to a very serious strep throat infection. He thought to himself, “I am a TERRIBLE person. I broke his guitar, and he worries about me.” He cleared his throat again and then responded, “Yeah...I'll do that.” He looked down, shuffled his feet, and then repositioned the clothes hamper against his hip. “I guess I'd better get this down to mom.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Bård took the hamper down to the family's laundry room and set it down. Then he ran upstairs to his own room, shut the door, and collapsed onto his bed. And the tears came. He felt so completely destroyed.

Bård KNEW he shouldn't have touched it. It was his brother's most favorite thing in the whole world. And despite how tempted he'd been, he KNEW that he shouldn't have touched it. But he had...and now he felt the walls of his bedroom closing in around him.

His breaths were shallow as the enormity of the situation consumed him. He shuddered repeatedly as he tried to get the tears to stop. “What am I going to do? He's going to kill me!” He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow and continued to sob uncontrollably.

After nearly fifteen minutes of Bård weeping, he slowly sat up, sniffled, and then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His cheeks felt so hot and tear-stained. He was thankful that no one had come to knock on his door as they would surely need answers as to why he was in such a state.

His breaths were finally slowed enough so that he could start to think. “I need to fix this.” He took another deep breath. “But how?”

Then he realized exactly what he needed to do.

Bård walked downstairs to speak to his dad. “Dad, can I get a job?”

The older man slowly raised his head up from over the magazine that he was engrossed in to look at his middle child. “A job? Why do you need to get a job”

Bård looked down at his feet and fidgeted before answering, “I need some money.” He prayed his father wouldn't ask why.

“Money? Are you in some sort of trouble that I should know about, son?”

The young man shrugged. “I'm fine. I just...I just need some money.”

"Okay...well, what kind of a job did you have in mind?”

Bård realized that he hadn't thought it all through yet. He thought for a moment, and then remembered something their neighbor had offered. “Well, Mr. Anderssen said that they are always looking for more people to help deliver newspapers. I could use my bike.”

After a bit of skepticism, and some eyebrow raising, terms were agreed upon. Bård would be able to have the job as long as his grades at school and his chores at home didn't suffer.

Within a few days, Bård had everything set up the way he needed to. He got up at 4 in the morning to get the papers out, and despite how tired he was, he actually manged to do a good job at maintaining everything that he needed to do for a week. One day after school, he went into a local music store to ask about how much it would cost to fix the crack in the guitar. The owner of the shop seemed very sympathetic and quoted him a price that was about half of what he normally charged for such repairs. Bård did some calculations and figured out that he would have enough money after about three weeks of the job.

At the end of the second week, though, Bård found himself starting to get overwhelmed. He was exhausted and found himself snapping at his family. He fell asleep in his history class at school and got a severe scolding from the teacher who threatened to contact Bård's parents. He smoothed the situation over by promising to write a detailed essay on the history of Spanish royalty. “Yes, that's the most important thing I will ever learn,” he angrily muttered to himself as he began walking home that day.

The next day, he felt himself starting to feel ill, probably from the prolonged exposure to the frigid early morning temperatures coupled with the lack of sleep he'd been experiencing the last couple of weeks. As he trudged through his long day at school, he felt himself getting warmer, and the coating at the back of his throat getting thicker. He just COULDN'T allow himself to get sick. That would be the end of the job, and he'd never be able to get the guitar fixed.

After school that day, while he and Vegard were on their way home, Vegard started gushing about something exciting that had happened to him. “I've been asked to play my guitar in a band at a party this weekend. My first real chance to show it off! It's going to be so great, Bård, and I want you and the rest of the family to come see me play.”

Bård suddenly felt very ill and got so flushed and dizzy that he felt as though he would pass out. “That's...umm...that's great, Vegard! But, you haven't played in so long. Maybe you should hold off on trying to play it right now.” He was desperate.

“Well, we're going to get together tonight after dinner and rehearse. We will run through a few things and hopefully we'll be able to find something that will work.”

Bård stopped in his tracks. “Tonight? You're going to meet up tonight?”

Vegard continued on, not even noticing the sudden change in his younger brother's demeanor. “Yeah. I can't wait. Come on...we gotta get home. I have rehearsal tonight.”

“You...” Bård paused to clear his throat. “You go on ahead. I have to go talk to Mr. Anderssen about my job.”

“Okay, see you at home. Be safe, okay?” Vegard ran off ahead.

Bård wanted to desperately to cry right then and there, but he couldn't. He knew that he had business to take care of. He quickly made his way over to their neighbor's, and his boss's, home and rang the doorbell. After the Mr. Anderssen opened the door with a quick greeting, the young man looked up at him and asked, “Mr. Anderssen, is my first paycheck ready?”

The older man looked down at Bård's hopeful eyes and said, “I'm sorry, Bård. I don't have anything for you yet. It takes some time for the paperwork to go through. You won't get your first paycheck for at least another week.”

“Another week?!” Bård was instantly shattered. “But...” He struggled to keep the tears in that now suddenly threatened to fall. “But that will be too late.” He sniffled.

“Too late?”

Bård couldn't say anything. He was just stunned and couldn't think of what to do. His throat was burning now.

“I'm so sorry, Bård. But I will bring it to you as soon as I can.”

The boy nodded his thanks, and then turned around and shuffled away. A single tear escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheek.

He suddenly had a revelation. He went home, got his bicycle, and rode it to the local bicycle shop. He left it outside for a moment while he walked inside to talk to the owner. “Excuse me, sir.” He addressed the owner with wide eyes and a anticipative look on his face.

The owner looked over Bård's shoulder, as though looking for a parent who was noticeable absent. He then returned his gaze to the hopeful look on the young man's face. “What can I do for you, young man?”

“I really need to sell my bike. Would you buy it from me?”

“Well, I don't know, son. I am not really in the market for any used bicycles right now.”

Bård looked down and sniffled. He cleared his throat and then said, almost in a whisper, “But please, Mister! I really need the money. You see, I did something really awful.” He wiped his nose, and before he realized what was happening, the entire story of what had happened spilled out. By the end of the oration, Bård was fully crying. “Mister, I just HAVE to have money so I can fix his guitar. It's his favorite thing in the world, you see?”

After hearing the story, the man smiled at Bård. “You didn't let me finish, young man. I'm not really in the market for any used bikes...except for the one that you have! Those are HIGHLY desirable by my customers. Imagine my luck...you coming into my shop today.”

Bård slowly looked up at the kindly gentleman. “Really? You mean, you'll buy it?!”

He nodded, and then slowly walked over to his cash register and pulled out several bills which he promptly handed over to the boy. “I think this is a fair offer.”

Bård looked at the money in his hand. It was more than enough for what was required. “Thank you so much, sir!” He quickly walked towards the door. He turned before exiting the store and said, “Really! Thank you!”

He ran outside and towards the music store, but was distressed to find out that the shop had closed only ten minutes earlier. He sighed, slumped over, and turned towards his house and began the long hike home, made longer because of his lack of the now-sold bicycle.

By the time he got home, the rest of his family was already gathered around the dinner table. He sat down at his place at the table and picked up a utensil. “Sorry I'm late, mom.”

His mother looked at him disapprovingly and gave a quick rebuking, but the incident was quickly forgotten with the excitement of Vegard's news about his newfound band's upcoming gig.

Dinner was quickly eaten and the dishes cleared away when Vegard announced that he was going to go get his guitar and leave for his practice session. He jumped up, ran upstairs to his room, and started to pull the guitar out of the closet. Before he could get out the door, Bård appeared from the hallway.

“Hey, Bård, what do you need? I got to get out of here.”

Bård cleared his throat once again before reaching into his pocket to pull out the bills, his profit from his sold bike. He looked at the money in his hand for a split-second before offering it to his brother.

Vegard looked confused. “I don't get it.” He took the money. “What is this for?”

The younger brother took a deep breath and then the entire story spilled out. Everything from him sneaking into the room over the past year to play the guitar, to dropping it, to him trying to earn money to pay for it, to him selling his beloved bicycle. Vegard had a shocked look on his face by the time Bård finished speaking. “You....what?!?!”

He immediately took the guitar case and set it on top of his bed and opened it up. He gently pulled the guitar out to assess the damage. He looked at it closely, tilted his head up towards his brother, and then looked at the guitar once again. “I can't believe you...” Bård looked down, obviously ashamed for what he had done. The tears began to fall again. Vegard continued, “I can't believe you went through all of this trouble for me.” He went over to his brother and put his arm around the younger's shoulder.

Bård shook his head and tried to speak through his tears, but his throat was so raw now that it came out as a whisper. “I'm so sorry, Vegard. I didn't mean anything bad. I just...I just wanted to play it.”

Vegard nodded, “I know, Bård.”

Bård continued to cry. He sniffled once before looking up at his brother. “That money is enough to repair the damage I've done. And it should be done before your gig this weekend.”

“You know that you shouldn't have done it...come into my room and played with my things.”

Bård nodded and squeaked out, “I know.”

Vegard walked back over to the guitar case and picked up the guitar once more. He stepped back over to his younger brother and handed the guitar to him. “Play.”

Bård blinked wide eyes a few times. “What?”

“Play! I want to see what kind of progress you've made while you've been sneaking about for the last year and a half.”

Apprehensively, Bård slowly reached for the guitar and slung it around his shoulder. He started to play a song that was on the top of the pop charts. His eyes closed and he got lost in the music. After a couple of minutes, he finished and opened up his eyes to see his brother.

Vegard took a deep breath. “Wow, Bård. Really good.” He nodded. “Really, REALLY good.”

Bård took the guitar off and reached out to hand it back to Vegard. The older brother smiled at him, “No...you keep it!”

Bård blinked several times. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What?”

“I mean it! Keep it!”

“But what will you do about your band this weekend?”

“I'll borrow Frederick's spare guitar. Really.”

When Bård appeared to still be in disbelief, Vegard added, “I want you to have it. It obviously means that much to you.” He chuckled softly. “Besides, if you take it, you won't have any reason to come sneaking around in my room anymore.”

Bård smiled at Vegard, quite relieved with the situation at hand. “Thanks, Vegard.” He sniffled softly.

“And go get into bed. You're sick, and you need to get better so you can come to the my show on Saturday!” Vegard ushered his younger brother towards the door.

Bård coughed quietly and shuffled out the door toward his room, guitar in hand.

After Bård was safely in his room with the door closed, Vegard smiled and headed downstairs and out the door to his practice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire family made it to Vegard's show that weekend. It was undeniable how talented he was and how happy he was to be up on that stage.

After the show, he promptly handed Bård a small stack of bills.

“What's this for?” the younger brother asked.

“For you to get your bike back.”

“Really, Vegard??” He was so happy, but shocked. “I really don't deserve it, you know.”

“I know. But you need to be able to quit that job. You need to be home practicing that guitar. I see great things for you. For us.”

Bård smiled at his brother. “Really?”

“Really! Who knows...we might even write a dumb song about a fox someday...”

Bård giggled and just shook his head at his brother. “Yeah...right...”


End file.
